Git Along,Little Incans!
by LauraCynthia
Summary: A new threat (or should I say an old one) lurks about. What happens when an experiment backfires?


"Water!"  
The parched voice cried out at the steps of the palace. Kuzco turned his  
head towards the door. "What the heck is that?" He listened for a moment,  
then turned back to his crown, which he was polishing industriously. "Must  
be breathing this stuff in or something, it's making me hear things," he  
said, meaning the polish.  
"Did you hear that?" Pacha walked in towards Kuzco.  
"Water! "Pause. "Or maybe one of those lemon-lime things. That'd be nice  
too."  
"Kronk?" Kuzco ran towards the door. "Let him in, guys," he said to the  
guards. One of them opened the door.  
Kronk stumbled in, tripping over his own feet as he usually did when he was  
tired. He toppled over. Kuzco and Pacha rushed over to him and helped him  
up over to a chair filled with cushions. Kronk's face was all muddy, and he  
had leaves caught up in his hair. He was really sweaty. Kuzco noticed this  
and tactfully removed his favorite red poofy one from the chair.  
"Okay, first things first, get him something to drink. Chop-chop!" Kuzco  
ordered. A minute later, a young girl came in with a chalice full of a  
greenish-yellow liquid. Kuzco inspected it carefully, then handed it to  
Kronk, who greedily gulped it down, going, "Schloompf-schlorp-gulp-  
schloop," and other such awful noises. Kuzco winced at each sound, then  
gagged a little.  
"What is it? Where have you been?" Pacha asked gently, but rather  
anxiously. Kronk had set out last week to go hiking, but he was only  
supposed to have been gone for that afternoon. Both of them had been  
worried about him, and, as a matter of fact, Pacha was just going to go out  
to look for him, but he couldn't find his hat.  
"I was in the jungle, when I saw a rare blue-necked feather-........and I just  
had to observe it for my notes....."  
Kuzco just sighed. "And you lost track of time. Take it easy; it happens.  
Sometimes when I really get into a groove, I won't stop until the bottoms  
of my sandals are worn out."  
Kronk went on. "But I have to tell you something! Like I said, I saw the  
bird, and I followed it into a clearing. When I got there, I noticed a  
cave. Which was funny, since blue-necked feather hawks don't usually  
frequent caves. They're more the tree type. It disappeared into the cave,  
and I snuck up on it with my sketchbook and charcoal. I followed it all the  
way down the cave before I realized what it really was."  
"What, some peasant girl sneaking out for a secret tryst with her lover?  
Seriously, I think that could've waited, Kronk." Kuzco gave him a funny  
look.  
"No," said Kronk. "It was Yzma."  
Kuzco and Pacha stared in shock. Kuzco could hardly get the next words out  
of his mouth. "Yzma.....you mean she's......human?"  
"That would explain the 'long neck' part, "Pacha said.  
"I don't believe it. I just don't believe – wait! I got rid of her lab  
months ago!!! Remember? That's how we created that little daycare center."  
It was true. Yzma's lab had been completely torn apart to make way for a  
daycare for mothers who had to work in the city. All the potions were kept  
put away in case there was a play going on that needed animals. Why waste  
fabric on costumes when you could have the real thing? Of course, after  
analyzing the human potion, they had come up with a way to stockpile it, in  
case of any little pranksters spiking the emperor's drink for innocent fun.  
But the main barrier was that Yzma could not access these in any way. Kuzco  
had made sure of that. There were armed guards standing in front of the  
storage room. Any body who tried to go into the room was administered human  
potion which would turn them back into their old selves if they were lying,  
or have no effect if they weren't. Plus the fact that Yzma had not been  
seen for half a year after pitching a hissy fit one day at a Junior  
Chipmunk meeting. It was assumed she had taken a long walk off a short  
precipice or something like that. Every day for about a month, Kuzco  
expected to hear that somebody had found her body while making their way  
through the jungle. After a while, he sort of forgot about it; or, at  
least, it stayed out of his conscious mind. It was like a scab that you  
knew you had somewhere on your body, but because you didn't know where it  
was, you figured it wasn't a problem. But once it became infected.........  
"So let me get this straight; Yzma has a new lab? Somewhere in the jungle?  
In a cave?" Kuzco asked?  
"That's what I saw. Oh, you should see it." Kronk babbled incessantly.  
"There's a large wall that she has cut a shelf out of, somehow. I can't  
really see her as the rock carving type, so I suppose she just found it  
like that, possibly formed by erosion. It does happen, you know. Anyway,  
it's really wet and humid in there, and personally, I can't see how she can  
put up with it myself. It's very dark, so I couldn't see well, but I did  
hear her murmuring something about 'youth' and 'revenge'."  
"I don't like the sound of that," Pacha said warily.  
"Me neither," Kuzco shivered. "Good work, Kronk."  
Kronk took the last sip of drink. "That feels better. Ahhhhh....." He leaned  
back in the chair. "So, that's my story. Oh, hey, you want to see my  
sketches? I did a few llamas-"he flipped through the sketchbook "-and  
they're quite good, if I do say so myself. Did I overdo it with the shading  
on this one? I think I might have...see, the fur shouldn't be quite as dark  
with that kind of light.......maybe I should smudge it a little more........"  
Kuzco had been mulling over an idea the whole time. His face suddenly  
squeezed up with an evil smile.  
"Kuzco? What are you thinking?" Pacha sounded like he was going to scold  
him.  
Kronk, by this time had stopped talking and was looking at Kuzco's face  
now, too.  
Kuzco smirked. "Why don't we......pay Yzma a little visit?"  
Pacha reacted immediately. "Kuzco, are you crazy? If you didn't learn  
anything else from our trek, you should've at least learned that Yzma is  
evil! She wants to kill you! Besides, that's the guards' job, not yours.  
You'd only be getting yourself into more trouble."  
"Pacha, I'm no idiot. Believe me, I know the consequences; heck, I lived  
the consequences. That wasn't a fur coat and mask I was wearing. If we  
send the guards there, they'll make a lot of noise, crashing through the  
trees and all. But we can sneak through the jungle quietly. After all, you  
did teach me a few shortcuts." He paused. "What they know about survival is  
warfare, and that's as far as it goes. They'd cry like a big bunch of  
babies the first time they hear a scary noise. Wouldn't you like to see  
Yzma's face when we catch her in the act?"  
Pacha thought for a moment. "Well, I don't suppose it would be any more  
dangerous than falling into a river and practically getting crushed against  
each and every rock."  
"Is that a yes?"  
"Yes."  
"Well, okay, let's get ready." Kuzco dashed off into the hallway and ran to  
his room. Kronk and Pacha went their separate ways.  
  
"Oh, honestly, Kuzco, you're only going out for a few hours, not a month!"  
Pacha called from outside the door.  
"That's what Kronk thought too." The door opened, and Kuzco stepped out,  
wearing one of many ponchos he now owned. This one was light orange, and it  
had a llama on it, like all the rest. Underneath it was a white undershirt,  
and on his feet were plain sandals. He was holding a rolled-up blanket  
full of clothes.  
"I still don't see why you had to change clothes."  
"Need I remind you, for the millionth time, that I'm the emperor? Believe  
it or not, some people still think of me as a god. Although I can certainly  
understand their motivation," he said, flashing a smile at his reflection  
in the mirror, "it's really annoying when I walk down the street, and a  
million people bow down and try to kiss my feet. That kind of thing gets  
old real fast, you know what I mean?"  
"I don't see how I ever could have." Pacha looked around. "Now, where do  
you suppose Kronk has gotten to?"  
About a minute later, Kronk rushed towards them and thrust some things into  
their arms, nearly knocking them both over.  
"Hey, Kronkie, what's all this stuff?" Kuzco asked, pawing through the  
bundle he held.  
"Energy bars. We're going to need a lot of energy. There's plenty of sugar  
and caffeine. Not exactly the healthiest thing in the world, but it was the  
best I could do on such short notice." He looked almost excited, as though  
they were going out for a picnic instead of off to thwart Yzma.  
"Very nice. "Kuzco looked down at Kronk. "But what's that?" he asked,  
indicating the blue earthenware jug Kronk held in his hands.  
"This? That's a protein drink. Good stuff. I made it for the rock climbing  
expedition that some city guys are going on, but I figured we needed it  
more than they did."  
"Okay, well then, I guess we're off." The three of them started to walk  
towards the front door.  
  
"That's the third pair of shoes this week!"  
Yzma watched the pink sparkly sandals disappear into a puddle of muck.  
That's what you get for being vain, she supposed. But she just couldn't  
help it. Those sparkles did set off her feet nicely, or at least distracted  
you from the long, ugly, bony toes on the ends of them.  
"This place is so dark, and you can't even light a decent torch because of  
all the humidity!" She sighed deeply. "My kingdom for a window, and some  
fresh air!" She walked over to the other wall of the cave, and took out a  
vial. "Ahhhh, there you are. The last ingredient." She had been working on  
this for some time, and she certainly did not want to slip up now, so she  
read the label once, then twice, then once more for good measure. Finally,  
deciding that it was definitely correct, she glided over to the table she  
had been working at. On it lay several mixing bowls, graduated containers,  
and various sizes of spoons.  
Yzma stood over the table, looking down at her array of materials. She was  
wearing her old lab coat, glasses, and hair again. They felt so comfortable  
on her. Underneath it she wore a blue sundress with thin straps.  
She had gotten her old clothes back by going to the annual palace rummage  
sale. Crowds of peasants flocked to the courtyard to purchase used palace  
goods. There were many bargains. A young girl might buy a swath of fabric  
or an old sheet and turn it into a beautiful wedding gown. A man might buy  
his wife a golden bracelet that was tarnished and missing a few jewels, and  
to her, it would be as though it was new. It was very hard to find her old  
possessions, because they were at the back, stuffed into a box, and buried  
under some other items. When she opened the box, it was full of dust. She  
had covered her face with a veil to avoid detection, and had disguised her  
voice. When one of the palace money handlers had asked her why she hid her  
face, she explained that she had been horribly disfigured since birth. He  
asked no more questions and processed her purchases.  
Now, that wasn't a lie, per se, except for the "at birth" part. Because,  
truth be told, Yzma herself knew she was ugly. She had to face facts every  
time she looked in the mirror. Her parents had always loved her despite her  
looks, and her mother, who had been Kuzco's grandfather's advisor, had  
taught her how to use chemicals. Yzma's mother had been nothing like her  
daughter. She loved the job and was very good at it. As a matter of fact,  
she always said that her daughter was very bright. Often, she called Yzma  
"the advisor's advisor", Taa for short, because she sometimes could solve  
problems her mother could not, or think about things in different ways.  
The reason her mother used chemicals was to make medicines for people, or  
to make soaps. In the evenings, she would experiment in her chambers,  
trying to find new ways to help people. "See, Taa," she'd say, "here's how  
you make hair soap. It'll make your hair all nice and shiny. And it smells  
like flowers. Smell it." She dressed much simpler than her daughter now  
did, wearing a village-made dress with long sleeves under her lab coat.  
Yzma would watch her prettying herself up for another important function,  
and ask, "Oh, Mother, why must you dress that way? You look like a  
peasant." Her mother would simply reply, "I love them." She didn't wear  
much makeup, either, just a little blush and perfume.  
Yzma thought nobody could ever ruin her life.  
She thought wrong.  
  
It began on a beautiful day, as most horrible things do. The air was  
scented with a hint of flowers and grass, and the sky was as clear as a  
diamond. The clouds sagged like a mother cat's belly, heavy with kittens,  
and they were as fluffy as one, too.  
Yzma and her mother were sitting in the main drawing room, on chairs. Yzma  
was curled up with a piece of paper, drawing a picture of a river.  
"Lady Hacana, would you mind trying on this dress for the empress? You and  
she are about the same size, and I must finish these hems before the  
festival." It was Quna, the royal seamstress. She clutched her sewing box  
in her right hand.  
"Not at all. May I ask the reason?" Hacana got up and walked over to her.  
"Her Highness is feeling a little under the weather, but I expect she  
should be back on her feet in a few days."  
"Very well," Hacana replied. She stripped down to her undercoverings, and  
slipped the red fabric over her head. Quna opened her basket and removed  
several pins, which she held between her teeth. She knelt down beside  
Hacana and started to hem the dress.  
Yzma looked at her mother in the dress, and felt a wave of jealousy rise up  
inside of her. Why did the empress have to have everything nice? Mother  
looked so pretty in it, with her jet-black hair cascading down her back,  
and her dark eyes shining in the pale light. As far as she was concerned,  
that dress belonged to Mother, and no one else.  
"Oh, dear, I'm out of pins. Hold on for a second, I'll be right back." Quna  
exited the room in a hurry.  
Yzma looked at her mother again. "Why can't you keep it?"  
"Pardon?" Hacana looked up at her daughter.  
"Why can't you keep this dress, and give the empress one of yours? Blue  
would bring out her eyes so." Yzma thought this seemed like a reasonable  
excuse. "Besides, the empress is too fat in the hips for it."  
"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way." Hacana said. "We either take their  
leavings, or we have our own made. Tell you what? The rummage sale is  
coming up in a month. What do you say I ask them to save us some dresses?  
There would still be enough to have a sale."  
"Thank you, Mother," Yzma said, and then continued working industriously on  
her picture. Hacana watched her daughter with a smile.  
Suddenly, Yzma heard voices coming from the hallway; she tensed up, then  
almost immediately relaxed. They were probably just peasants, bringing a  
complaint to the emperor as usual. The folks on the hill next to them had  
loud parties when they were trying to sleep, there was no money to buy  
seeds for next year's crops, a plague was spreading through a village's  
drinking water.......Honestly, why didn't they ever solve problems for  
themselves?  
The voices got quieter, then disappeared all together. Yzma thought nothing  
of it.  
Until the footsteps became louder.  
And a man charged in the room.  
"So, Your Highness,.........," he sneered. "I guess it's time for a little  
payback." He pulled out a sword from his sheath. Hacana looked petrified,  
frozen still.  
Yzma screamed.  
Quick as lightning, he ran the blade through Hacana's side. She clutched  
herself, and fell over with a thud. Her face had a sickening look on it.  
Blood steadily flowed from the gaping wound.  
The man did not see Yzma. He left as quickly as he had came, or at least  
tried to. The guards had heard the scream, and had rushed into action. Two  
of them grabbed the man, who had dropped his sword and so had no means of  
escape. They led him away in chains.  
Quna had almost been to the door when Hacana had been stabbed. She walked  
in, and rushed over to Yzma's side. Yzma was crying buckets of tears near  
her mother's body. She wiped her eyes on the hem of her dress.  
"There now, hush, child, easy. Hushhhhhh..." Quna rocked Yzma in her arms,  
comforting her.  
Yzma looked over at her mother. It was observed that if you bled on an item  
of clothing, it belonged to you.  
That dress was now her mothers.  
But in a way she never wanted it to be.  
  
The festival went on. The emperor and empress were carried through the  
streets as people waved colorful flags, cheered and danced. Yzma didn't  
even want to watch, but she did anyway. She could see her father, dancing  
with Rino, in the streets, laughing. Rino was her mother's younger sister,  
only about 10 years older than Yzma herself. Her father seemed to be almost  
unaffected by the loss; in fact, he seemed not to care that anything had  
happened at all.  
"How can he dance when my mother is dead?" Yzma cried, a wave of fresh  
tears surging to the corners of her eyes. She couldn't believe it. And the  
empress..............that knife was meant for her! She was supposed to have dropped  
to the ground in a bloody heap.  
Yzma sighed a mournful sigh and fell asleep on somebody's doorstep. She  
slept for about 5 hours until one of the empress's many attendants came and  
woke her up to go back to the palace.  
"Somebody's feeling sleepy," the older woman cooed. "Come, little Yzy, I'll  
take you back." Yzma followed her to the caravan, and climbed into a tent-  
like thing carried by two young men.  
  
Yzma walked down the hallway to the dining room, 4 days later. Stupid Kinna  
(a bossy servant who didn't know her place) had told her to quit moping and  
come eat with "the rest of the people", which included her father, Rino,  
and a couple of wrinkled old hags whom she didn't know the name of. I  
certainly hope I never look like that, she thought.  
She had almost passed a room when she heard her father and the emperor  
talking. Curious, she looked around the edge of the doorframe. They were  
standing at the other end of the room and not facing her, so she tiptoed  
over behind a curtain and listened.  
"I still think she's too young."  
"Hoci, you know the rule of blood. It follows that your daughter will take  
over her mother's place, just as my son someday will mine. It's just the  
thing with important positions, and it's sacred. Hacana had told me before  
that she was quick-witted."  
"But is she mature?"  
"If she wasn't before, her mother's death has made her so. Do you doubt her  
that much?"  
"No, I don't." Hoci's gaze shifted down to his feet.  
"Be proud of your daughter. She may very well lead my son to victory in  
battle some day."  
Yzma couldn't believe it. The emperor had that much faith in her? How could  
this be? It didn't seem possible that the very people she hated actually  
thought highly of her. Somehow, though, she hated that, too. Besides, the  
very idea of a mere child advising the emperor would send the kingdom in an  
uproar.  
Then, all of a sudden, she didn't. There would have to be a way to do  
something about those people.  
Yzma sneaked out of the room as silently as she had entered. She could live  
with these people for a while.  
  
And live she did. The emperor and empress eventually died of old age, and  
their son was crowned emperor. Already betrothed in a week to a city girl,  
he was married the following week. Yzma, now in her late 60's, grudgingly  
presided over the ceremonies, and was none too pleased with the match. This  
girl was worse than her mother-in-law, always giggling at everything. Yzma  
couldn't understand what the emperor had seen in her. She sleepwalked,  
snored when she didn't, and was rather clumsy. Plus, as of four months ago,  
she was pregnant, so now Yzma had to deal with the empress's crazy  
hormones.  
It was good fortune for Yzma, however. On the days when the baby was making  
the empress feel under the weather, the emperor would sit by his wife's  
side, leaving Yzma in charge. Those were the days when she could tell  
everybody off, no matter what they wanted. The emperor, in her opinion,  
must have been crazy to allow so many people an audience with him. They had  
grown much too soft, thinking that everything that happened to them was too  
important to wait until the general hearings.  
Every night, she had to report to the emperor the news of the day, mainly  
who came to ask for something, what it was, and what she said. Of course,  
she didn't tell him what she really said; that would be way too risky.  
Instead, she gave him an "edited" version, which was safe from any  
peasant's counter argument. She had made sure of that, promising them that  
they would get it if they told the truth. Stupid ruler believed her too, he  
hadn't given up on the blind faith he'd had in her from the start.  
In the evenings, as her mother had done, she worked in the lab. Her  
intentions were less helpful though; why should she help them, the people  
who had killed her mother? She worked on her own experiments. The years had  
been rather unkind to her, and, having been as homely as she had been as a  
child, would no doubt do worse. Her quest was to find a youth cream.  
She had tried for years and years in the dark underground room that was her  
lab to try and create the perfect formula, which she wouldn't share with  
anyone. Nobody would take her to task about it because nobody knew it was  
there. It had been a tomb for a long-forgotten ruler. She didn't even need  
to redecorate it because the mood suited her perfectly. Dark and dreary.  
The most obvious source of youth was a young animal. She couldn't take any  
samples from humans because everybody would get suspicious. So she  
collected sample after sample, day after day. She quickly found a flaw the  
first time she tried one of the many potions she had cooked up; picture a  
purpleish-grey parrot with a twisted beak. The youth of the animal clearly  
had nothing to do with what you would become. She tested out other potions  
with similar results. Yzma, however, did not throw anything away. She had a  
feeling these would come in handy some day. To turn back into a human being  
she had no choice but to go to the empress's room when she was sleeping and  
grab a lock of hair. Yes, it was risky. But never being human again was  
riskier still.  
After regaining her original form, she had to take a long break from  
experimenting. The emperor and empress were traveling to the traditional  
birthing refuge 10 miles away, leaving Yzma more in charge than ever. This  
was probably the best chance she had.  
Ruling came as naturally to her as if she was blood kin to the emperor. She  
had to, however, tone down the blackmail; there were mutterings in the  
nearby villages that she did not want the emperor to hear. Good Girl Yzma  
was what everybody saw; Bad Girl Yzma was writhing inside with rage, trying  
to break free. However close she was to the surface, nobody ever saw her  
the whole time. In fact, people started to actually like her.  
When the emperor and empress came back, they numbered one more. A little  
bundle of red blankets squirmed in Her Highness's grasp. The emperor looked  
proud, as though he himself had given birth to the baby.  
"Would you like to hold little Kuzco?" The empress extended her arms full  
of child to Yzma.  
Yzma lifted the child into her arms. A little reddish face peeked up at  
her. He had short, straight black hair, and little eyes that looked as dark  
as soil. He quickly began to scream in terror.  
"Here, you'd better look after him now." Yzma passed Kuzco back to his  
mother. She smiled at her, a fake smile.  
"I guess he's a little scared of all the new things. Are you, love?" She  
rocked Kuzco gently. He burped and fell asleep. "Isn't he a darling?" she  
asked Yzma  
Yzma waited a few seconds, then replied, "Yes, an angel."  
  
Now, Kuzco wasn't so bad at the beginning; in fact, as a little kid, he  
really liked her. Yzma was constantly bothered with questions his mother  
was too busy to answer, such as, "Where do babies come from?" Yzma told  
him one of the old legends, assuming he'd figure it out for himself one  
day, and partly to get him to leave her alone. And when Kuzco's parents  
died, she became his advisor, instructing him in the ways of ruling, which  
she was well qualified to do. Eight year olds couldn't exactly prevent  
civil wars; that was her job.  
In about ten years, though, Yzma faced the ravages of hormones. Kuzco's  
hormones. Puberty had somehow given him the idea that he was all that, and  
now everyone had had to live with it. From demanding to be served anything  
at any time he wanted, even in the middle of the night, to punishing people  
because they "threw off his groove", Kuzco was the ultimate spoiled little  
brat. Even his father wasn't that bad. At least he walked around on his  
own, not counting dancing.  
Yzma had been penalized more than once for throwing off his groove. She  
could still remember the feeling of flying out into clear space about a  
million feet above the rocks, always grateful for the streamers. Kuzco lost  
more poles that way than anything else.  
One day, a typical day, she was just taking care of Kuzco's business,  
something he was too busy fooling around to do himself. She watched as  
peasant after peasant filed in, some with babies, some old and feeble with  
no teeth. But she treated them all the same, not in the interest of  
equality, but rather to get them all to leave her alone.  
Yzma had asked about one of the kitchen servants, a young man named Kronk,  
who was more enthusiastic than most. She had noticed that he seemed to be  
the only one who could lift heavy things in the kitchen, and she knew she  
might have a use for him. He didn't seem too bright, which was perfect,  
since she wanted someone who would do first, ask questions later. He was  
more like do first, ask questions never.  
So far, he seemed to be pretty okay, aside from the fact that he often  
interrupted her when she was telling a peasant where to park his llama (if  
you get my drift). A fly came from nowhere, and buzzed around her skullish  
head. It caught Kronk's eye, so she waved it towards him, as if to say,  
"Here, Kronk, knock yourself out."  
Which is precisely what he did.  
Meanwhile, another "troublemaker" had just been escorted out of the main  
hall. Yzma kneaded her eyes like dough, tired from last night's work.  
Suddenly, she heard a voice, which seemed to be expressing her own thoughts  
exactly about the gall of the common folk.  
"Tell me about it," she moaned. Then she saw who the voice belonged to.  
"AHHH!" Yzma jumped about 6 feet into the air.  
"Uhh, you were doing it again."  
"Doing? Ah, hahaha, doing, doing what?" Yzma tried to look innocent and  
even kind by dusting off the throne, as if she had infected it somehow, but  
Kuzco didn't fall for it.  
"My job."  
Yzma tried to convince Kuzco that there was nothing wrong with what she was  
doing, but as usual, he didn't believe her. Then she noticed that he was  
staring at her the whole time she was talking.  
A servant came in and interrupted them by saying that another peasant  
wanted to see the emperor. Kuzco said okay, and then he dropped the biggest  
bombshell of her life.  
"Oh, and by the way, you're fired." He said it so casually, too. Yzma  
couldn't believe her ears.  
"Fired? What do you mean, fired?"  
"Um, how else can I say it? You're being let go, your department is being  
downsized, you're part of an out-placement, we're going in a different  
direction, we're not picking up your option... Take your pick. I got more."  
Yzma was furious. And somehow, a little man had appeared and was scribbling  
down that nasty little message. He pulled the slip off the notepad and  
speared it on her fingernail like a shrimp on a toothpick.  
Kuzco drawled rather annoyingly, "Soooo, who's in my chair?"  
Kronk jumped up and down like an eager puppy dog. "I know. I know. Yzma.  
Yzma's in your chair, right?"  
Kuzco played the dog trainer very well. "Very good, Kronk. Here, get the  
snack." He tossed a cookie in the air. Kronk leaped backwards like a  
skittish ballet dancer, and peeped, "Got it!" After which he got it all  
right.  
"All right, you heard the man, up, up, up." Kuzco twanged. Yzma growled in  
contempt and marched angrily down the stairs. She was going to have to do  
something about that brat.  
  
And, of course, there was no need to go over the rest of the experience  
again, because it was still fresh in her mind. The agony, the mud, the  
llamas, the squirrel, the peasant, the restaurant, the lightning, the wrong  
levers. All of it was as clear as if it had happened yesterday.  
But back to the task at hand. Yzma hummed with glee. She had finally found  
the secret to youth. You see, extract of llama, for instance, turns you  
into a llama that resembles you, not the llama that the sample was obtained  
from. And it didn't matter whether the animal was old or young. Generic  
human potion also had no specifications.  
However, all the samples Yzma had collected had been from other animals and  
humans. So it was no surprise or big leap to make the conclusion that if  
you used a sample from yourself, it would produce the right effects.  
She had it in a necklace of her mother's. It was a single lock of hair,  
from Yzma when she was about 3. Yzma had absolutely no intention of  
becoming a toddler, but with the right ingredients, she just might be able  
to compromise. In other words, look out world, here comes Teen Yzma!  
Yzma took the lock out of the necklace and slowly unwound it. It was  
black, and shiny. She pulled it apart, strand by strand, and dropped each  
one slowly in the bowl. Lighting a match, she set them on fire, then  
watched as they turned to ashes. When the flame had burned out, she poured  
the ashes into a earthenware cup already containing the other ingredients.  
The ashes dissolved into the rest of the mixture, which slowly changed to a  
pink color.  
"And, now to test it." Yzma lifted up the bowl, and almost dropped it. She  
could barely contain her excitement.  
  
"It's dark in here."  
"Shhhhhhhh!" Kuzco clapped his hand over Kronk's mouth. "You wanna spoil  
the whole thing?" He took a step forward, then winced as he realized that  
his foot was stuck in the mud.  
And he could not get it out.  
He pulled and pulled on his leg, and finally yanked it out with such force  
that it sent him flying back into Pacha.  
"Oof! Whoa!" Pacha fell over into the mud, taking Kuzco with him, and Kuzco  
grabbed for Kronk's arm to steady both of them, and they all fell into the  
mud. This just added to the slime, leaves, and various other mucky things  
they had on them.  
Kuzco sat up. "Gahhhhh, it's ruined!" They all stood up at about the same  
time. Kronk had a mouthful of mud that he was now spitting out and choking  
on, nearly. Pacha picked up his sack and tried to slog through the mud,  
which was very difficult.  
"Hey, Pacha, it's less muddy over here," Kuzco called, indicating a patch  
of ground that was muddy, but more of a weak broth than a stew.  
"How'd you get over there so fast?"  
"Easy. I'm young, you're not; I'm long legged, you're not; I'm skinny,  
you're definitely not........" Pacha had almost caught up with Kuzco when Kronk  
ran into more trouble. He tripped and fell face-first in the mud again,  
sending something flying in the air. It hit Pacha in the back. He turned  
around to pick up and examine the projectile before it sunk once more into  
its muddy grave.  
"Yup, she was here. Catch." Pacha tossed the object to Kuzco.  
"Hey, it's her shoe. Good work, Kronk." Kuzco put the shoe down. "Kronk?"  
"Miffle melph pheer?" (Little help here?) Kuzco ran back to help him up.  
"Stay there, I can get back faster than you," he said to Pacha. Kronk was  
now standing up. He looked worn out.  
They all walked on the dry patch now. Kronk stopped for a minute to eat an  
energy bar, then moved on. Suddenly....................  
"STOP!" It was Kuzco. He had disappeared around the corner, but they knew  
where he was nonetheless. They turned the corner and saw Kuzco wrestling  
with Yzma for a bowl of something.  
"So, you found me?" Yzma kept the bowl just out of hopping reach of Kuzco.  
With a superhuman effort, he reached up and grabbed it. Yzma looked at  
Kuzco, smug and very pleased with his prize.  
"What are you trying to turn into now, if it's not to much to ask?" Kuzco  
held the bowl in his hands, trying to decide. "Oh, I love guessing games.  
Don't tell me, I know I'll think of something......hate it when people spoil  
the fun of guessing. So annoying." He put the bowl on a table. "Maybe you  
were going to come back and kill me, perhaps? Nothing like a good  
assassination attempt to liven things up. Gets the blood flowing." He  
flexed his muscles under the poncho, as if he was trying to show off.  
"I'm not trying to kill you this time." Yzma snarled. "I'm doing something  
for myself, thank you very much." She picked up the bowl and almost drank  
it, but Kuzco pulled it away again.  
"Uh, uh, uhhhhhh....." Kuzco waggled his finger at her. "Naughty Yzma. I want  
to know everything. Or else......," – he pointed to the bowl, and then the  
ground - "this bad boy is going to be mud munchies."  
"How exactly did you find me?"  
"2 words; bird watching. Seems Kronkie here discovered your lair. And now,  
we're going to destroy it." Kuzco looked her in the eye, and then paced  
back and forth. "You know, you're a dangerous woman, Yzma. Too dangerous  
for your own good. And the thing is, we kinda liked you better as a feline.  
Easier to kick, I guess." He made a sign to Pacha, then tossed the bowl  
through the air to him.  
Pacha caught it, but not without a few drops spilling on a cactus nearby.  
Nobody noticed as it grew taller behind them, then withered away and died  
almost instantly.  
"Hey Kronk, catch!" Pacha sent the bowl flying to a silent-until-now Kronk,  
who caught it on the back of his hand, then pitched it up in the air and  
started juggling it. He flung it back to Kuzco, who swung up and pitched it  
like a baseball to Pacha.  
All this time, Yzma was jumping and charging back and forth between the  
three of them, trying to catch it but always failing. The bowl was still  
full when Kronk caught it. But he didn't throw it; instead, he looked down  
at it with a funny expression on his face.  
Even Yzma stopped what she was doing. Kuzco and Pacha stared confusedly.  
Pacha was the first to speak. "What is it?"  
"It's..........bubbling." Bubbling wasn't the word for it. The pink liquid was  
violently thrashing around in the bowl.  
"That's odd," Pacha said. "Almost as if it's-"The liquid started steaming  
heavily. Pacha looked at it again. "Almost as if it's going to............explode!"  
Yzma, Pacha and Kuzco ran away from the bowl and hid under the tables.  
Kronk dropped the bowl on the ground and joined them. The bowl shattered  
instantly upon impact, and before their minds could process any of it, a  
large blast blew out from it. Shards of glass, rock shrapnel, and mud balls  
rocketed towards all the cave walls, and a deafening noise pierced their  
eardrums. Kronk was crying while Kuzco huddled up close next to him and  
Pacha, and Yzma was in a corner by herself. Dust got in their eyes and  
blinded them, including Yzma whose goggles were now perched atop her head.  
All of a sudden, they were out of the cave and flying through a tunnel. It  
looked like the cave, but not like the cave. There was light everywhere,  
and they could see pictures of people and strange machines. They saw flags,  
and ships, and houses, and several wonderful things they didn't know the  
name of. Neither of the four knew what was going on. Nor would they have  
time to know. It ended.  
And they were out of their world. 


End file.
